Unseen
by dwennie
Summary: A vicious attack on Jules leaves the team scrambling for answers. Yes, there will be some Jules/Sam action, how did you guess?
1. Unknown Assailant

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but an overactive imagination and several uneaten chocolate bars.**

**Well, here is the first chapter of a new fic, Unseen. I have no idea whatsoever where it's going, so bear with me please. If you have suggestions, hit me with 'em. I'd love to hear them :)**

**And I have 3 half written oneshots, I'll try to finish them soon. Soon being a relative term ;)**

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Jules unlocked her front door with a yawn that nearly knocked her off her feet. She was absolutely exhausted. Her shift was supposed to have ended 4 hours ago, but the call they were working on had lasted way past the end of shift, and as far as she was concerned, it was far too late to be anywhere but asleep in her bed. She stumbled haphazardly into her house, pushing the door shut behind her.

She made it all the way to the kitchen before her skin started crawling. She wasn't one to panic under normal circumstances, but she was sure that something was wrong. Jules reached automatically for the gun that wasn't at her hip before cursing under her breath and spinning around, trying to locate the source of her growing unease.

The first blow sent her to the floor. Jules saw tiny lights popping in the back of her head as she landed with a thud, face first on her new hardwood floors. Gasping, she rolled herself over and back onto her feet, trying to catch a glimpse of her attacker and defend herself at the same time.

The man was wearing a ski mask, hiding any useful information she could attain from his features. He was enormous, and in his left hand he held a wooden baseball bat. If he weighed an ounce, he weighed 300 pounds. But this wasn't 300 pounds of flab and stupidity, no. Standing at least 6'7", her assailant was 300 pounds of bulging muscle, speed, and agility. She doubted even Wordy or Ed could best him at hand to hand combat.

Scratch that—make that Wordy and Ed combined wouldn't be able to take him down. Lord help her.

Taking a defensive stance, Jules ignored her head's protests. She could feel the faint trickle of something sticky and warm, but she ignored it. She had more pressing concerns.

The man lunged at her, arms outstretched, and she leapt out of the way, swinging her fist at his head. She made solid contact, but she might as well have punched her refrigerator for all the good it did. Letting out a low chuckle, he twisted around and swung at her side with the bat. She tried desperately to twist out of the way, but he was too fast for her. The blow caught her in the side, and she was knocked to the ground again. Her attacker slammed down on top of her and the wind whooshed out of her lungs.

Jules could feel his fists and feet raining down all over her face, arms, neck, and body. She twisted and squirmed and kicked and flailed, but she couldn't free herself. She struggled valiantly, she swung her fists and feet around fiercely, but it was useless.

As his fists connected again and again with her head, her fading conscience told her she had lost this one. With one last heroic effort to free herself, Jules slammed her fist into his nose. She heard a satisfying crunch and a howl, but her pride was short-lived. When she tried to scramble away, the baseball bat that had been lying discarded on the floor was suddenly in the man's hands again. Considerably weakened, Jules didn't have the strength to avoid the blows to her ribs, and she was knocked to the ground for the third time. One more blow to the head, and she fell unconscious.

Her assailant bolted out the door, slamming the front door with a bang on his way out, leaving no traces of his presence except for a few drops of his blood on the floor.

Jules just lay there, unconscious, blood seeping slowly out of breaks in her skin, violently purple, yellow, and green bruises already forming on her exposed skin. She looked like a real mess, like she had thrown down a mountain, then brought back to the top and thrown down again for good measure.

As the light of dawn slowly filtered through the blinds, signifying morning, Jules' alarm went off, beeping obnoxiously. Slowly, she became aware of the things around her again. Cracking her eyes open painfully, she rolled onto her back gingerly and she lethargically pushed herself upright. Her entire body protested violently, but nothing seemed to be life-threatening.

She attempted to get to her feet, but that proved to be a mistake. The movement made her feel like a vice clamped around her head was being tightened. Gratefully returning into a seated position, Jules reached for the phone that lay beside her. It didn't look like she was going anywhere herself.

She pressed the speed dial one, and held it up to her ear. Less than two rings later, a voice asked, _"Hello?"_

When she spoke, her voice sounded feeble and shaky, even to her own ears. Hating everything about her situation, she groaned, "Sam? Can you drop by? I need a huge favour..."

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**TBC**

**Yes, I'm picking on Jules. In my defense, I've already picked on Spike and Sam, and to be honest, Jules is easy to pick on. Not to mention fun. There should be a category of FP fics called Jules whump, in my humble opinion. Everyone does it, I promise! :P**

**Reviews are love :)**


	2. What Happened?

**Yeah, not much happens in this chapter. I do know where this is going now, thanks to FallenStar08, who unwittingly gave me the idea for the rest of the story. Thanks, love! :)**

**So, even though this chapter is pretty low on plot development, please review anyways! It makes me write faster. :)**

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When Sam arrived at Jules' house, she had managed to tidy herself and the house up. The broken glass was thrown away, her blood was scrubbed off the floor, and her attacker's blood was put in a small plastic bag for evidence. Jules was wearing a turtle neck and jeans, effectively hiding the worst of the bruising. She had wiped the blood off her face, only a slight nick was left, and most of the bruises were hard to see.

About 30 minutes after her phone call, there was a knock on the door. She pushed herself off her chair lethargically, still feeling the effects of having her head bashed in. Or at least, that's what it had felt like. Jules made her way over to the door, peering trough the peephole in an uncharacteristic display of nervousness. Seeing that it was indeed Sam at the door, she unlocked it and opened it. She opened her mouth to speak, but Sam took one glance at her appearance and beat her to the punch.

"Who the hell did this to you?" he asked angrily, reaching out and gently pushing her bangs back to get a better look at the extensive bruising. He gently ran his fingers over her cheek, where the worst of the damage was. He cursed under his breath, anger and worry clouding his features. "That son of a bitch...."

Jules had to forcible stop herself from shivering. Now was _not_ the time to lust after a co-worker. Taking a sharp step back, she interjected, "Sam, I'm fine, I just—"

"Don't even try," he cut in sharply. He stepped over the threshold, closed the door behind him, and steered her back into the seat she had just evacuated moments ago. "I know you're not fine, and I know you're hiding something from me. Just tell me what happened, and then I'm taking you to the hospital."

She glanced at him with reproach, but she was secretly grateful. She didn't want to make a big deal of the incident, but it was best to err on the side of caution. Jules didn't yet know the extent of her injuries, and she was not one to complain. Having someone take her forcibly to the hospital would ensure that she wasn't badly hurt, and she wouldn't feel like a wimp. Even with this said, she wasn't fond of the idea of telling Sam she was attacked in the middle of the night.

"Jules, just tell me. I'm going to find out eventually, and you know better than anyone that keeping secrets like these never helps anyone in the long run. What the hell happened?" he stated, breaking her long silence.

She carefully wiped her face of all emotion, she didn't want to him to see how much this had shaken her. Meeting his eyes, she said simply, "Someone caught me off guard last night. He must have been waiting here. I don't know who it was, he was wearing a mask, but he was about 6'7" and 300 pounds. I got him in the nose, though, and I have a sample of his blood bagged for the lab."

The look of sadness and worry he gave her nearly broke her heart. Sam opened his mouth, seemingly to search for something to say, but he couldn't seem to find any words. Instead, he pulled her to her feet and enveloped her in his arms, trying to offer some comfort. It was as though he could tell that she was hiding her unease. As Jules dropped her head onto his chest tiredly, Sam squeezed her reassuringly, unwittingly putting pressure on her sensitive ribs.

She couldn't help it, she flinched and inhaled sharply. Sam leapt back, looking horrified. Casting her a worried glance, he asked anxiously, "Are you okay? I didn't hurt you, did I?"

The corners of her mouth twitched in the resemblance of a smile. "I'm fine, just a little sensitive."

He looked at her once more, still worried, but he let the matter drop. "Let's get you to the hospital," Sam murmured affectionately. "I'll drop you off, then I'll take the sample to the lab and let the team know what happened."

Jules shot him another unhappy glare, unimpressed.

Guessing the cause of her doubts, Sam sighed, "You can't expect me _not_ to tell them what happened. Come on, let's go."

She shook her head in resignation and waited at the front door for him. He didn't keep her waiting, less than a minute later he was back with the blood sample. He led her outside, tensely waiting for a falter in her stride that wasn't going to come.

Jules was silent during the drive to the nearest hospital. She was trying to get used to this new feeling, the feeling of unease and fear. She was part of the SRU, fear wasn't something she was supposed to feel. She was supposed to be stronger than this, this wasn't supposed to shake her. Instead of responding to Sam's attempts at a normal conversation, she just stared blankly out the window.

They arrived at the hospital, and Sam killed the engine and looked at her in concern. It wasn't like Jules to stay silent for so long. "You want me to come in with you?"

Jules paused while undoing her seatbelt, unsure of what she wanted. She wanted to appear strong, but she desperately wanted and needed the support he offered her. Weighing her options, she finally answered timidly, "Walk me in?"

He nodded, apparently relieved. Sam stepped out of the car, and he followed her into the hospital. Jules waited in the emergency room silently with Sam seated beside her, his hand resting on her arm. That simple gesture did more for her than words could say. He was her rock, and he always would be.

Finally, a nurse called her name and she stood up gingerly. Sam got up as well, preparing to drive to the station. She turned, smiling in thanks before following the nurse out of the waiting area.

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**TBC**

**Thanks for all the reviews, you guys rock! I'll try to update soon, promise!**


	3. Not Like Me

**Thanks so much for all the wonderful reviews! You guys are so good to me. Reading them is the highlight of my day, I'm dead serious. Love you guys! I promise the story will start unravelling soon, just bear with me for now.**

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When Sam returned to the hospital, Jules was slumped in a chair in the waiting room, fast asleep. He allowed himself a small, affectionate smile before striding over to the receptionist's desk.

"Do you know how Julianna Callaghan is?" he asked quietly.

The receptionist, a bored looking girl in her early twenties bearing a nametag reading "Brianne" shuffled through the stacked files for a minute before bothering to answer him. "The doctors are just getting the results from the x-rays, they should be done in a minute," she drawled, twirling her hair absently around her finger.

Sam was about to nod his thanks before her words registered. Alarmed, he yelped, "X-rays?"

She gave him an appraising look and shrugged, blowing an enormous bubble that snapped with a surprisingly loud popping noise.

He turned away, suppressing a growl of frustration. Didn't receptionists at a hospital have to have some sort of qualifications anymore? They should at least have some form of people skills, in any case. Rolling his eyes in annoyance, he sat down beside Jules and waited for the doctor's news.

He didn't have to wait long. About 3 minutes later, a man in a long, white coat entered the room, holding a clipboard with illegible printing on it.

"Constable Callaghan?" he asked, and Jules woke up immediately. Being a light sleeper was a curse of the job, apparently. He had the same problem.

"Well, the good news is that in time, you'll make a full recovery," he began, pushing his glasses back up on his nose.

"What's the bad news, then?" interrupted Jules sharply.

"Well," he began hesitantly, "the injuries you suffered to the head gave you quite a severe concussion, you have 2 fractured ribs, minor bruising on your internal organs, and one broken rib."

Sam swore colourfully under his breath. No one hurt Jules and got away with it, of that he and the team would make sure. The DNA results from the blood sample would be back in a few days, and then they would make sure the bastard payed. On his right, Jules' face was carefully wiped blanked as she took the news in. He hated seeing her like that, he knew her well enough to know that it meant she was upset.

"When can I go back to work?" she asked quietly, her voice hiding any emotion.

"Considering the dangerous aspects of your job, not for a month, providing there aren't any complications. In addition to that, I want you resting for two weeks. Resting as in lying or sitting down; I know your type."

Jules folded her arms and scowled, but she nodded her assent grudgingly.

"Your house is also a crime scene now, so you'll be released into your friend's care, if he doesn't mind. Someone needs to make sure you're following your instructions," the doctor added as an afterthought, glancing at Sam for his approval.

Sam's heart fluttered involuntarily. "That's fine with me," he agreed.

"Alright, that's settled then," the doctor pushed up his glasses again. "We'll want to see you again in two weeks to see how you're healing. Take it easy, Constable."

Jules nodded, albeit reluctantly, and got up to leave with Sam. Once they were back on the road, Sam asked cautiously, "Are you alright?"

She didn't answer right away. After a few moments of thick silence, Jules looked out the window and murmured, "It's stupid."

"What is?" he questioned softly.

She sighed, still keeping her eyes fixed on a point somewhere outside the window. "Like... this thing, it's made me nervous and jumpy," she turned and met his eyes, hers dark with confusion and regret. "It's not like me. I shouldn't have let this happen. I should be stronger than this; it shouldn't be affecting me."

"Jules, it's not your fault. This could have happened to any one of us, alright? You have nothing to be ashamed of."

The ghost of a smile crossed her lips, and she ducked her head, displaying uncharacteristic shyness. "Thanks Sam, you always make me feel better."

"Hey, that's what friends are for," he said honestly, gently patting her shoulder to avoid causing her discomfort. "Now, let's drop by Headquarters and check in with the team, then we'll get some of your stuff and I'll drop you off at my place."

"Sam, I don't want them to see me like this," she sighed.

"Come on, they're your family, you've said it and they've said it. They care about you, and they're not going to judge you because of this. The team just wants to make sure that you're alright."

She shot him a look that nearly broke his heart. It was a look filled with uncertainty, anxiety, and sadness. It was so unlike Jules' usual confident, energetic self. He couldn't imagine how much the attack must have gotten under her skin; she was a highly trained officer of the law and she had still lost the fight. There was no doubt that her confidence and self-assurance had been shaken. He could only hope that the DNA test would yield solid results and that they would catch the guy so she could relax again.

"Jules?" he prompted.

She pursed her lips unhappily. "Let's get this over with, then."

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**TBC**

**Reviews are love :)**


	4. The First Night

**Ok, so I decided that Lou will still be alive in this fic, it just works better this way. So, for me this qualifies as two updates in a day! If you disagree, then you aren't in my time zone :P**

**The story will get more exciting in the coming chapters, either in Chapter 5 or 6 we'll learn who Jules' attacker was. DUH DUH DUHHHH. Without further ado, voila Chapter 4!**

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The team met up with Jules and Sam almost as soon as they walked through the double doors. As soon as they had spotted her, Ed, Greg, Lou, Spike, and Wordy had all come rushing over, their words overlapping. Despite her current mood, she had to suppress a laugh. You had to love them, the 6 full grown, tough-as-nails men that were crowded around her, jabbering about various things like overexcited birds.

Finally, she held up her hands for silence. "Woah, guys, one at a time please. I can't understand you when you're all yammering like birds."

They fell silent almost immediately. They looked at each other, trying to choose the first speaker without breaking the silence. After a few minutes, it seemed that Spike was elected to fill that roll.

"Are you... are you okay, Jules? We were really worried..." he asked squeakily, his eyes darting from the taped up cuts on her head to the purple and green tinges on her face to the dark bruising around her neck.

She smiled wearily. "I'll be fine," she reassured him. "But I won't be able to work for a while."

"A month, actually," Sam cut in. "and she's supposed to be resting for 2 weeks. Like sitting or lying down resting."

She shot Sam a dirty look. As if one overprotective teammate wasn't enough, now the entire team would be on her back, making sure she didn't so much as break a nail for the next month. The initial shock of the attack was finally wearing off, slowly being replaced by anger and frustration. All she wanted to do now was forget everything that had happened and get back to work. Much to her dismay, this would prove impossible until she had healed again. What Jules found even more annoying was the niggle of unease still lodged in the back of her mind. Oh, she would feel so much better when the bastard was in jail.

"And you'll be following his orders to the word, right Jules?" asked Ed worriedly, eyeing her like she was going to collapse at any moment.

"Jules, what did he do to you?" Wordy asked softly. Things like this always hit Wordy especially hard because of Shelley's past.

"I'm fine, really," Jules tried to brush them off. She didn't want the whole team thinking she was weak or giving her sympathy. She just wanted to get back to Sam's place and take a long, hot bath.

"You know, if you need to talk about it, we're here for you," Greg told her gently.

She smiled mechanically, praying that her visit would end soon. She was feeling pretty drained, and right now a nap seemed like just what the doctor ordered. Changing the subject to avoid the sympathetic and concerned faces of her team, Jules asked, "When will the DNA sample get back from the lab?"

Lou piped up immediately. "They should be back in two days."

Ed patted her gently on the shoulder. "We're gonna get this guy, Jules."

Jules nodded stiffly, casting a quick glance at Sam. He seemed to take her silent hint, and he quickly intervened. "Ok, well we better get Jules back to my place, she's staying with me while her house is being processed. We're just going to swing by her place to grab her stuff, I'll get her settled, and then I'll be back for the rest of shift."

He was just about to begin steering Jules back out of the station when Greg called after them, "Don't worry about it Sam, take the rest of the day off. If anything goes down, we'll manage without you."

Jules bit her lip, eyebrows furrowed. "Are you sure, Boss? I can manage—"

"I'm sure. Go, get some rest," he smiled affectionately at them, and one by one, the team dispersed back to the various tasks they had been tackling before her arrival.

* * *

Night time at Sam's house came quickly. Jules had spent most of the day organizing herself for the extended at Sam's place. Or, more to the point, Sam had organized Jules' things for her while she protested that she could take care of herself. His answer was always the same—he told her to listen to the doctor.

As the sky darkened outside the window, Jules shut herself in the bathroom and changed into her favourite flannel pyjamas. Yawning, she padded out to the living room and plunked herself back down on the couch. She had curled up into a ball and was preparing to drift off to sleep when Sam's voice cut through her conscience.

"Jules, what are you doing?"

She opened one eye irritably, not at all impressed. "I'm going to bed, what does it look like?" she snapped.

"No," he rolled his eyes in exasperation, folding his arms and looking down on her. "I mean what are you doing _on the couch_?"

She opened both eyes and gave him a look that clearly said, "Are you really asking me that?"

He sighed and walked around the couch until he was standing in front her, holding out a hand. "You're sleeping in my bed, I'm taking the couch," he proclaimed, his voice telling her not to argue the point.

She did anyways. "Sam, it's fine."

He rolled his eyes again, resigned to and amused by her stubbornness. "It's not a discussion; you're the one who needs it. Let's go."

She scrunched her lips together, the way she always did before getting to her feet, ignoring the proffered hand. "Whatever. Good night, Sam," she called over her shoulder as she left the living room.

"Good night, Jules," he said, more to himself than anything. "Sleep tight."

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Sam was awoken at 3 am by the increasingly loud noises coming from his room. He jumped off the couch and rushed to his room, startled by what he found.

Jules was tossing and turning violently in the bed, clearly in the clutches of a terrible dream. She was drenched in a cold sweat and whimpering desperately—that must have been what had woken him up—and her face was contorted in fear and anger. Sam gently grabbed her shoulders and shook her softly, careful not to cause her anymore harm.

"Jules, wake up. You're dreaming," he said sadly, just loud enough to be heard. Hell, the son of a bitch was going to pay for this, he thought to himself and he tried to rouse her.

Suddenly, Jules jerked awake into a sitting position, breathing hard, eyes darting wildly around the room.

"Jules?" he asked softly, causing her to flinch and look his way.

When she identified him as Sam, she visibly relaxed, but the haunted look never quite left her eyes. Looking more closely, Sam saw the glisten of unshed tears in her eyes, a sight that tore his heart in half. He sat down on the bed beside her, and wordlessly he pulled her into a gentle hug, placing a soothing kiss in her hair.

"It's alright, Jules. It was just a dream," he murmured soothingly, feeling her trembling slightly against him. Holding her softly, he stoked her hair rhythmically and soothingly, and eventually he breathing slowed and the tremors wracking her petite frame stopped. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not right now," she whispered after a slight pause.

He didn't make any move to change their position, and neither did she. It wasn't until several minutes later that Sam realized than Jules had fallen back asleep. He carefully rearranged her into a more comfortable position, and he let himself brush her bangs out of her eyes before leaving once more, shutting the door noiselessly behind him as he left.

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**TBC**

**Yes, it will be rather Jammy, but hopefully I won't overload the non-shippers. I'll try to keep a balance, but I can't make any promises one way or the other.  
Review before you go? I'll love you for it :)**


	5. Put A Name To That Face

**Sorry for the lack of updates in recent time, my father passed away on the 10th and I haven't had the time or will to write until very recently. I love you, Dad. After Christmas I will hopefully be able to update more regularly. I hope you guys haven't given up on me! FallenStar08, this is PART of the idea you gave me. More with be revealed in coming chapters.**

**Disclaimer: Not mine. Please note that I know next to nothing about DNA or DNA testing, so I apologize for any mistakes.  
**

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The rest of the night passed without any incident, much to Sam's relief. It wasn't that he minded taking care of Jules, he just didn't want her to have to deal with any more crap. It was a Saturday morning, so he didn't have to go to work. As he passed his bedroom's door, he opened the door a crack and peeked in. He saw that Jules was still asleep, so he walked to his kitchen to brew some coffee and make breakfast.

The Pillsbury croissants were in the oven and the powdered Tim Horton's coffee was reaching its boiling point, its rich aroma filling the air when Jules walked in. Her hair was tousled, and she looked distinctly uncomfortable.

"What's up, Jules?"

She bit her lip cautiously before jumping right into her mini speech, "I'm sorry about last night. I didn't meant to cause a fuss or anything, and I'm really sorry that you were dragged into this—"

Sam rolled his eyes surreptitiously. Of course he had seen this coming. "Look, you went through a traumatizing experience. It's okay to have nightmares."

"I'm not five," she snapped.

"Come on, Jules. Everyone has nightmares at some point. You're entitled to be human."

She shot him a withering stare. Well, as withering as can be while clad in flannel pyjamas and bed head. She sat down next to him at the kitchen counter. Jules met Sam's eyes for the briefest of moments before looking away again, and Sam heard her sigh. "I should be stronger than this. This shouldn't affect me."

Sam put a tentative hand on her shoulder. He felt her shoulder momentarily tense, but the sensation was gone so quickly he couldn't be sure it had actually happened. "Honestly, no one expects you to be an emotionless robot. We won't think any less of you for having feelings."

She didn't move or make a sound, but from his position at the counter he could see her lips twitch in the faintest ghost of a smile. Deciding he had made some headway, he broke the serious mood. "Want some breakfast? I made it," he grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

In a second, Jules went from her blank, pensive self to her normal, cheerful self. "Sure," she laughed, "though I'm not sure taking them out of the package and putting them in the oven counts as making it."

"Well, I could actually cook, but this way the house remains standing."

This elicited a laugh from Jules, and Sam counted this as a small victory.

The rest of the day passed normally. Jules unpacked anything still sitting in her duffel bag, and she arranged her clothes in the empty drawers more efficiently. A few members from Team One popped in, but Sam was the only one who noticed the slight shift in Jules' behaviour. Even when there was nothing to be done, she somehow managed to find something else to do. Though he couldn't be certain, Sam suspected that she was trying to keep her mind from wandering by filling her time with an assortment of tasks to keep her occupied. He wouldn't be surprised if the night brought her a new nightmare.

True to his guess, Saturday night found Jules sneaking into the kitchen at 3 in the morning for a mug of warm milk. Being a light sleeper, Sam caught her and coerced her into telling him about the dream. The next morning, neither of them could explain how it had happened, but they had both fallen asleep in Sam's bed, with Sam's arms wrapped around Jules' waist.

Sunday night found Jules insisting on sleeping on the couch. Sam had just fallen asleep in his bed when he felt a petite form crawl in next to him and snuggle against his chest. He said nothing, just pulled her in closer and drifted back to sleep. He could only hope that Monday's unveiling of the DNA tests would have some results they could work with.

* * *

When Sam got to work on Monday, the rest of the team was already there, crowded around a harried looking worker from the lab. Sam practically sprinted over to join them.

"Now that Constable Braddock has arrived, I shall tell you our test results," the lab worker, a small, slight guy sporting thick glasses said. "From the blood sample we were able to ascertain a portion of DNA, which we ran through the government's DNA database. Due to the small size of the strand we found, we had 5 hits. We figured you could help us narrow it down."

The team clustered around the sheet of paper, portraying 5 different faces.

"Jules said tall, heavyset and male, so we can eliminate 1 and 3," Greg started, "they're female. Number 4 is too old, which leaves us with 2 and 5."

Sam studied the pictures closely. "From the photo, number 5 is too slim. Plus he lives in Vancouver."

"That leaves us with 2," Spike stated.

They gazed at the photo, hate and disgust reflected on each team member's face. Looking back at them was a tanned, muscled man in his early thirties. His brown hair was cropped in a military cut, and his hazel eyes held an ice cold expression.

"Can we get this guy's information?" Ed asked the lab worker.

He handed him a slip of paper wordlessly before leaving the team to their business. Ed scanned the paper for a whole two seconds before swearing in outrage and handing the paper to Greg. He too swore explosively.

"What is it?" asked several annoyed voices in unison.

Greg sighed and closed his eyes. When he opened them, there was a cold fury none of them had ever seen before in his eyes. "His name is Rick McLaren. He's a cop."

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**TBC**

Review por favor? I cherish them dearly :)


	6. Do You Know Him?

**Thanks everyone for your kind words and reviews, it means a lot to me :)**

**Without furthur ado, on with the show!  
**

* * *

The team stood in a shocked silence. It was Sam who first spoke. "A _cop_? Are you sure?" he stammered, eyes wide.

"Rick McLaren, age 32. Senior officer in the Toronto Police Homicide Squad. He's been in that unit for 6 years now, after he left the military," Greg said in disgust.

"Wait, before we go accusing any cops we should see if he even fits a profile," Ed said reasonably.

"He's got a point," conceded Wordy.

Lou snatched the paper from Greg's hands and read aloud, "No criminal history, but he was dishonourably discharged from the army 6 years ago, and then he joined the force."

"Dishonourable discharge?" Spike asked, perking up almost like a dog. "Does it say why?"

Greg slid the paper from between Lou's fingers, giving him a semi-stern glare. "The records are... sealed. Winnie!" he called, and she turned away from the computer curiously.

"What is it, Boss?"

"Could you get into Rick McLaren's sealed military records?"

She turned immediately back to the computer, tapping furiously at the keyboard. "Sure," she said distractedly, "just give me a moment."

Team One turned back to the sheet in Greg's hands. "Look," Greg pointed out, "complaints of excessive use of force, one internal case of harassment and several cases of disciplinary action, but no convictions. That fits."

There was a short silence as they scanned the rest of the sheet. "Look, Sarge!" Lou suddenly exclaimed.

"You got something, Lewis?"

Lou pointed to two lines of text near the bottom of the sheet. "It says he went to SRU training camps when he was discharged from the military, but he didn't get in."

Wordy looked up, comprehension dawning on his face. "Isn't that when Jules joined up, 6 years ago?"

Greg shook his head angrily, "It is, that son of a bitch."

"We've got evidence, a psych profile and possible motive. That'll get us a warrant," Ed said.

"Boss?" Winnie called.

"Yeah Winnie?"

"I've got his military records here, he was discharged for a few cases of harassment, as well as anger and control issues."

The team exchanged dark glances. "Thanks Winnie," Greg nearly growled.

"It's got to be him," Sam hissed.

"Winnie, call up a judge and get a warrant for this guy's arrest," commanded Ed.

"On it."

"We're not passing this one on?" Wordy clarified curiously.

"No, we're taking care of this ourselves. Besides, he's a cop," Greg said icily.

"Should we tell Jules what's going on?" Spike asked cautiously. "I mean, maybe she remembers him or something...."

"I think we should keep her out of this," Sam said slowly, fighting the protective urges crawling up from his belly. Jules could take care of herself, after all.

Winnie hung up the phone and called over, "The warrant will be in tomorrow. The judge is home sick."

Greg swore. "Fine, thanks Winnie."

"I'm with Sam, I don't think Jules needs to be involved in this," said Lou.

"No one wants Jules involved," Ed stated, "but we need her insight on this one. We need to know if this guy could have had a grudge on her, if she knows or knew him, if she's talked to him recently, that sort of thing. Without that, we'll be flying blind."

"Knowing is half the battle," Greg sighed heavily.

Sam, Spike and Lou exchanged sceptical looks, but said nothing.

"So, what do we do until we get the warrant?" Wordy asked, breaking the thick silence.

"Let's do a deep background check on McLaren, the works. Mental history, sealed records, car, address, floor plan, badge number, anything and everything," ordered Greg.

"If he has a dog, I want to know its name, breed, and gender," barked Ed.

"Once we're done that, we'll work out and prepare a plan for tomorrow."

The team nodded and bustled off to find their laptops. Before Sam could leave, however, Greg held him back.

"How's Jules, Sam?"

Sam opened his mouth, but no words came out. After a short pause, he said, "She's doing alright."

"How's she really doing?" Greg asked, sensing the lie at once. It took great skill to lie to a negotiator, or anyone trained in profiling for that matter.

"I mean, physically she's fine, she's healing well. But mentally? I'm not so sure," he said hesitantly, not wanting to reveal Jules' troubles.

"Why?"

"She keeps having nightmares, for one thing, but you have to expect that," he said, hating the protective note that was blatantly obvious in his voice. "And during the day she always needs to be doing something, I guess to keep her mind off of things?"

Greg nodded understandingly. "Yeah, she's had a tough couple of days. But she trusts you, so can I ask you to ask her about McLaren tonight?"

Sam thought for a few moments before answering. "Okay, Boss. How should I break the news?" he asked.

"Just be her friend, you're good at that," Greg said kindly. "That's what she needs the most right now."

He followed the rest of the team out of the room, leaving Sam to be alone with his thoughts. It was a long five minutes before he had decided on a course of action, and he went to join the rest of Team One, somewhat satisfied by his decisions.

* * *

Jules was reading an outdated copy of _Guns and Ammo _when she heard the door open. The sound of an opening door caused her to have an internal struggle with the rush of panic that assaulted her. The annoying surge of panic was lessening with each battle, but Jules, being Jules, was impatient and filled with self-loathing for even feeling the panic in the first place. If only the damn guy would get locked up already, then she could finally relax.

"Sam?" she called out, pleased that her voice sounded normal.

There was a clink of keys being tossed into a bowl before the new arrival answered, "Hey Jules, how was your day?"

She chuckled wryly, "I sat on my ass and read old magazines all day. Yours?"

Sam dropped down on the couch next to her. "As long as you're having fun," he teased.

She snorted sceptically.

"We know who broke into your house, we found out today," he said hesitantly, choosing his words carefully.

"Good," she said emphatically. "Is he locked up?"

An apologetic grimace crossed Sam's face. "The warrant is coming in tomorrow."

He winced inwardly when he saw Jules' eyes wiped blank of all emotion. "Okay, good to know," she said, her voice as blank as her eyes.

"I want him in jail too, Jules," he said sympathetically, ignoring the flash of anger in her eyes. "But we need your help. Do you know Rick McLaren at all?"

He pulled out the wrinkled picture and handed it to her, carefully studying her body language. He didn't discover much, she was trained to hide her emotions, just like he was.

After a short pause, Jules swore. "Damn it," she hissed. "Damn. Yeah, I do. This is starting to make sense now."

* * *

**TBC**

**Review por favor. Ily guys! :)**


	7. Confrontation

**Sorry for the slower updates, I'm trying to speed them up. A huge thank you to my readers and reviewers, I love you guys! :)**

* * *

Sam stood still, stiff with shock for a good 10 seconds. "You-you know him?" he stuttered, "How?"

Jules fidgeted anxiously on her bed before answering, and Sam could tell she was desperately wanting to be up and moving about. "SRU training camps, he was my partner. He seemed like a nice enough guy. Guess I was wrong."

Sam listened carefully, memorizing her words to repeat to the team tomorrow. "So... what happened?"

"Well, everything was fine until we got to the final recruitment trials. You know, when there's 6 left? I got the job, and he went nuts. Went on about how the SRU is a man's job, how I can't be expected to keep up, and how this wasn't over here. His words, not mine," she said heatedly, her anger growing with each word.

Sam jerked his hand as though to drape it over Jules' shoulder, but he seemed to think better of it. Deciding that the best play was to be objective and not to baby her, he asked, "Have you seen him recently?"

She sighed tiredly. "Last time must have been just after recruitment, he was lurking around my house, and I reported it. He got a warning, but you won't find it on any records. He was a cop at that point, and everything just stopped after that so I figured it was over and done with."

"Does the team know about this?" he asked. Sam figured if they knew they would have remembered, and he knew this was the type of thing Jules would try to keep quiet.

"No," she admitted sheepishly after a pause.

"Ok, well we're going to lock him up. We're executing the warrant first thing tomorrow," he said warmly, wincing inwardly at the glare Jules shot him.

"I want to go," she said immediately.

"No way in hell."

"Why not?" she demanded indignantly.

Sam cast her a glance that spoke for itself, but he voiced his thoughts anyways. "You're kidding, right?"

He saw no change in her expression. On the contrary, she folded her arms and stared him down.

"You're injured, it's too personal for you, and we want to keep you safe."

His last words seemed to strike a nerve. "The team wants to keep me safe, or just you? I'm not a little girl, I'm not helpless, Sam. I can take care of myself. I can stay in the command truck, and it's just as personal for you guys. Don't try to lie, it won't work. I'm not made of glass, stop treating me like I am," she snapped, fire burning in her eyes.

Sam took several deep breaths and mentally calmed himself before answering. "You're not made of stone, either. I know this is affecting you more than you'll admit; I know you too well. We all care about you, Jules. Do you think the team will allow you to be there?"

She surprised him by visibly deflating and collapsing back against the couch. "I need to be there, Sam. Do you understand that? Just—just call the Sarge, I want to talk to him," she sighed.

Sam patted her shoulder gently before fishing in his pockets for his cell phone. He passed it to Jules, and she punched in his number.

"Hey, Sarge. It's Jules, I need to talk to you..."

* * *

Sam had no idea how she managed it, but in the morning Jules was sitting in the Suburban, getting a ride to Rick McLaren's apartment building. There were a few conditions attached, she had to be wearing Kevlar and under no circumstance was she to leave the truck.

"What's the plan, Boss?" Lou asked while en route.

"We go in fast and hard, subdue him and arrest him. Only if he's alone. If he's not, everything changes."

"Speed, surprise and aggressive action," Sam said.

Jules smiled, remembering the first time he had said those words. Sam noticed, and he shot her a sly smile. He was surprised to see her blush, but pleased nonetheless.

They pulled to a stop in the underground parking, and Sam and Wordy were sent up to his apartment to make sure he was alone.

They snuck up to the 5th floor and slid the snake camera through the crack under the door. At first glance, the apartment was empty, but on closer inspection, they could see McLaren seated on the couch, a young woman next to him.

"You getting this, Boss?" Wordy whispered.

"Yeah, yeah," Greg replied, "we'll wait until she leaves, we need him isolated."

"Copy that," whispered Sam.

"Keep surveillance up, and pull back and soon as the female gets up. We need eyes, but he can't see you," Ed ordered.

"Copy."

Jules sat in the command truck, stiff as a board. She watched the screen with blank eyes, eliciting a concerned glance from Spike.

"Jules?"

"What?"

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she said, as earnestly as possible.

A few minutes went by uneventfully, when McLaren stood up and made his way over to the closet.

"Subject on the move," breathed Sam.

At this point, McLaren angled his body so that it was impossible to see what he was doing. He returned to the couch, and in less that a second the woman had been pulled to her feet, stuck in a chokehold. McLaren pointed the gun to the door crack and fired once, rendering the camera useless.

"Shots fired, no harm," Wordy gasped.

"No harm," repeated Sam.

"To the Police unit here, I want you guys out. I've got a hostage, and I'm not afraid to kill her," McLaren spoke, his voice as cold as ice.

The woman whimpered in terror, the sound audible even through the door.

Sam and Wordy exchanged worried looks. Greg slammed his fist into the side of the Suburban, muttering incomprehensible profanities under his breath.

* * *

  
**TBC**

**Little bit of a cliffie there :)**

**Review please? You know you want to!**


	8. Talk It Out

**Damn it's been a while since I've updated. Well, here we go, action as promised. I'm not too sure how much more is going to happen in this story, we'll just have to wait and see.**

**I'd really appreciate hearing feedback for this chapter, since I don't write many negotiations or tactical pieces, and I'd like to know how I'm doing. I greatly appreciate hearing from everyone who has already reviewed. :)**

* * *

Greg was the one who broke the shocked silence. "Winnie, I need a home phone number for Rick McLaren sooner than ASAP. Ed, I want you to get a vantage point for a sierra shot. Sam, Sierra 2. Lou, replace Sam and go on entry with Wordy."

"Copy," various voices responded, and they dispersed to do their respective tasks.

There was a slight pause on the other end of the radio. "Got it," Winnie said, and she rattled of the numbers immediately.

Greg punched the numbers into his cell phone and waiting for an answer. "We need to get an idea what's going on in there. Wordy, Lou, get out the thermal imaging cameras."

"Yeah, he must have spotted the snake cam. He's ex military and familiar with our playbook," Spike added. "We'll have to be careful, guys."

"Copy that," Greg sighed anxiously, running his hand over his head again.

"Thermal imaging isn't good enough for a shot," Ed pointed out, running up the stairs of the building east of McLaren's apartment building. "We're going to have to talk him out of there or get him to drop his guard."

"Sam, you should get vantage on a nearby balcony," Jules said suddenly. "You should be able to find one with good vantage and you'll be able to rappel in with explosive entry if you have to."

"I always knew she was a thinker," Wordy whispered, barely audible. "Thermal imaging is up."

Greg cursed again, slamming his phone shut with more force than necessary. "No answer. I'm trying again."

"Sierra 1 in position," Ed said calmly. "The blinds are partially shut, I've got limited vision."

"Sierra 2 in position," Sam informed them. "I've got the solution, but if he moves much I'll lose visual."

"Copy."

This time, McLaren answered on the fourth ring. "Is this the negotiator on the phone?" he sneered, arrogance lacing his words. Greg had to stop himself from saying something very unprofessional.

"Hey there Rick, my name is Sargeant Greg Parker with the police Strategic Response Unit. Is everything alright in there?"

On the screen in the command truck, Spike and Jules saw McLaren shift his weight nervously.

"You're trying to negotiate me. It's not going to work," he said snarkily, though Greg detected a slight note of panic in his voice.

"Yeah, you're smarter than most guys, aren't you?" Greg agreed, feeding his arrogant side. "How did you know we were here? That must have taken lots of training to recognize us."

McLaren couldn't help but boast. "I saw the snake cam under the door. You can't pull that one on me, you know. I'm trained just like you guys, and you're going to let me walk out of here."

"I don't know if I can do that, Rick," Greg said carefully, playing for time. "But the woman with you, can you let me know if she's alright?"

"I want a chopper with a full tank of fuel."

Greg paused, trying not to employ his usual negotiating techniques. McLaren would recognize them in a heartbeat. "I'll see what I can do about that, but first I need to know the woman's alright. Can you tell me her name?"

"Don't think I don't recognize what you're doing," McLaren said angrily, pulled the woman in closer. She let out a whimper that was audible even over the phone, and the team exchanged anxious glances.

"I know you're smart, Rick. But you know where this could lead, and there's no way you're getting anything until I know who this woman is and if she's okay."

"Sarge, he's really arrogant," Jules said confidently. "If you can get him talking for long enough, he'll get distracted and Sam and Spike can rappel in."

"Yeah, that's smart, Jules," Greg said, covering the mouthpiece of the phone. "Spike, go meet up with Sam. Jules, you're my new second."

"Copy," Spike said, gathering his gear and jumping out of the truck.

"Boss, is that a good idea for Jules?" Sam asked concernedly, not moving from his position.

"Sam, I'll be fine. Nothing can happen," Jules snapped.

He let the matter drop, albeit unwillingly.

"Fine, fine," McLaren conceded. "Her name's Katie Fawcett, and she's fine for now. If I don't have a chopper in one hour though, she's dead."

"Winnie, we need a background check on a Katie Fawcett," Jules commanded.

"On it," came Winnie's voice.

"Thank you, I'll get to work on that, Rick. Why are we all here today, anyways? You must have a pretty good reason."

The team went from quiet to dead silent in less than a second. Jules stiffened subconsciously beside Greg.

"Ah, but you know that already, don't you?" McLaren's voice had taken on a silky smoothness that disconcerted them more that the most unstable of all hostage takers. He was playing with them now.

"Well, I can guess, but that's about it. How about you clarify that for me?" Greg pressed. "I'm sure your reasons are valid."

"Boss?" questioned Ed slowly.

"He knows what he's doing," Jules defended him loyally.

"Jules, Katie Fawcett is McLaren's step sister, she had no history. I guess she was visiting and just got in the way."

"Thanks Winnie," Jules said. "You got that, Boss?"

"Yeah, thanks."

Through the thermal imaging, Jules saw McLaren grow most excited. He seemed to be bursting to validate his actions.

"Boss, you seeing this?"

"Yeah, thanks Jules," Greg said distractedly. "Sam, Spike, once he gets going I want you to blast though the windows and secure the hostage. Set the charges now."

"Charges set," Spike whispered. "Waiting on your go."

"Team Alpha standing by for entry," Lou added.

McLaren had started speaking again. "I should have had that job. That little bitch couldn't hold a candle to me, and I proved it. You know what I'm saying? I deserved that and she just stole it from me. The SRU is a man's job for God's sake, I'm surprised she hasn't gotten herself killed yet, to tell the truth. I was just waiting for that, but I'm not waiting any longer—"

"Go," ordered Greg.

A blast sounded, and suddenly the floor of the apartment was covered in glass. Spike and Sam were shouting at the top of their lungs, and McLaren, caught completely off guard, was slammed to the floor and cuffed while his hostage was secured. Time slowed down for Jules as she heard McLaren's shouts mixed with Sam and Spike's over the radio, and she had to fight to keep herself composed. On her left, Greg had hung up the phone, disgust etched onto his face.

"Hostage secured, subject in custody," spat Sam angrily.

"Okay, alright. Good work team," Greg sighed in relief. Jules just blinked slowly, as if she was coming out of a deep sleep.

* * *

**TBC**

**(This is the part where you review) ;)**


	9. Epilogue

**I know, I know! I can't believe it's been almost 2 months since I've updated! I'm sorry, I really have no excuse. On the bright side, this is the last chapter. It's quite short, but the action has been wrapped up, so this is essentially an epilogue. I apologize again, and I sincerely hope that someone is still reading this and that this chapter was worth the wait. If it was, wanna let me know?**

* * *

Jules was more than ready to go home. Ever since McLaren the pig's arrest, she had been considerably more relaxed and more accepting of her sit-your-ass-down-and-rest duties. The two days before her return to her house found her dropping in on the team several times, much to their dismay. Those surprise visits ultimately ended in an irate teammate scolding her as they drove her back to Sam's place.

Finally, the day came where Jules was allowed back home. Sam, of course, was the one who dropped her off. Cutting the engine, he watched her carefully.

"Want me to come in?"

"Nah, I'm good."

Realizing he wasn't being too clear, Sam tried again. "_Can _I come in?"

Jules paused, her hand on the door's handle. She knew Sam pretty well, and she was catching on quickly. "Sam, I'm fine, McLaren's locked up, and I'll be back at work in no time. Your concern, while appreciated, is unnecessary and a little bit patronizing, to be honest," she stated kindly, trying to seem like too much of an ice cold bitch.

Still, Sam was not deterred. "Please, Jules? I just... that scared me," he explained, tilting his head to one side.

She cocked an eyebrow at him, weighing her options. After a moment's pause she said, "On one condition."

He nodded his assent.

"You're making dinner."

Jules ducked with an uncharacteristically girly squeak as Sam took a playful swat at her head. "Careful," she laughed, stepping out of the car. "I have a concussion, remember?"

Sam simply rolled his eyes. Like _that_ had ever stopped her before.

The evening passed with refreshing happiness. Sam wriggled out of cooking by ordering in Chinese, and they topped off dessert with mildly freezer burnt ice cream. With their stomachs taken care of, the almost-couple settled down on the couch to watch a movie.

Obviously, this caused a disagreement of sorts. Jules was opting for horror, and Sam for a classic. Eventually, they settled for a classic horror movie, popping _The Exorcist_ into the DVD player.

As the opening credits played, Sam leaned towards Jules and whispered, "Just so you know—I hate horror movies. If I can't sleep tonight, you sure as hell aren't either."

Jules merely smirked. "Who says you're staying the night?"

"You are not making me drive home after watching this."

And then the meat of the movie started, and both fell silent. Much to Sam's amusement and Jules' dismay, the movie proved much more frightening that Jules had anticipated. Sam was therefore more prepared than she was for the movie, and by the halfway point Jules was hiding her face in Sam's chest. He said nothing, just smiled knowingly.

At the end of the movie, both of them were sufficiently freaked out. Being a girl—well, genetically at least—Jules was a little antsier than Sam, despite his earlier revelation. Either way, both decided that another movie was in order. They quickly decided on a light comedy, so they chose _Night at the Museum_. It did the trick; afterwards, both were well prepared for a good night's sleep. Just as well, too. It was well past 2 in the morning.

Five past 3 found Sam sneaking into Jules' room. It wasn't the movie that was preventing him from sleeping; it was the need to be close to her, like he'd grown used to over the past few days. The usual risk of her killing him slowly and painfully was absent for once, so he creaked the door open and slipped inside.

Jules was already asleep, a small grin on her face and her arms curled around her pillow. Sighing softly, he slid in beside her and gently pulled her into his chest. She didn't wake, just shifted slightly in her sleep. Sam thought he heard his name escape her lips, but then again, it could have been his imagination. He would never really know.

He drifted off to sleep almost at once, and the two snipers took one more subconscious step towards fixing their broken relationship. Only time will tell what becomes of them.

* * *

**Fin.**

**And it's finally over. I hope you enjoyed it. I'd love to hear your thoughts--good, bad, or ugly. This is probably my last post in Flashpoint fanfiction for an undefined amount of time, so I'd like to know if this was worth it. Thanks for reading, and I'm out. Love you guys!**


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